


Tweed

by lysanatt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The London winter is remarkably cold, and so is Severus Snape: cold, alone, and dirt poor - all by choice. However, Severus begins to doubt the brilliance of that choice when he unexpectedly runs into an old acquaintance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tweed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lordhellebore and the prompt "Percy/tweed" which fitted nicely with a story that could go on in my favourite London shop ([Hornets](http://pics.livejournal.com/snapelike/pic/000bqepy) at [Kensington Church Walk](http://pics.livejournal.com/snapelike/pic/000bp9ew), a street that hasn't changed much the last two hundred years). Weather forecast text taken from BBC's Paul Hudson's Weather & Climate Blog, 9th January 2010. (The coldest London winter in more than 30 years. It was horrible. I was there.)

The icy wind reminds Severus Snape of how much three hundred pounds are, precisely.

Three hundred pounds.

It is three months' worth of meals.

It is almost a month's rent.

It is... just not possible.

The cold wind makes Severus pull his old Muggle coat tighter around his thin body as he walks quickly down Church Walk, trying not to notice the small shop approximately in the middle of the row of low, terraced houses. He doesn't have to look. Severus knows there is a sign in the window announcing that a closing sale is going on. He also knows that the coat that he wish he could afford is still hanging in the back of the shop, in the left hand corner.

Another thing Severus Snape knows is how much money he has hidden in a small jar in the even tiny kitchenette that someone has put up in his even tinier flat. Although "flat" is probably too much praise for the oddly-shaped room he rents from the slightly deaf Mrs Ainsley: a bargain, considering the prices in London, even for a shoe box like the one he's living in. Severus has to help Mrs Ainsley, of course, cleaning the stairs and occasionally do a bit of grocery shopping in return for a discount on the rent. Strangely enough Severus is satisfied. Hogwarts is hundreds of miles away, there isn't a wizard in sight, and he is in that regard pleased to let himself be swallowed up by the hustle and bustle of the never-sleeping city. Severus has had it with wizardry, he has had it with wizards, and he has sworn never again to let himself be used by the rulers of the wizarding world the way he was used by Albus Dumbledore.

Used, and almost used up.

But money... Money is a problem. In the same fashion that Severus' determination got him through the war, the selfsame determination has made him put away his wand, never again wanting to use it. It has brought him nothing but trouble. Also Severus does not want to be traced, and any use of his strong magic would be revealing if somebody happened to look for it. Severus doesn't think that anyone would, but he does not take any chances. He did not make many friends in the wizarding world.

The refusal of his wand does have consequences, though. What could have been obtained easily, either by the wave of a wand, or by changing a piece of rubbish into a few sorely needed notes is no longer a possibility. Severus has lived long enough in the Muggle world not to challenge fate. He does not want to draw attention to himself - neither from Muggles, nor from wizarding folk.

Thus, Severus passes the small menswear shop, trying to ignore the coat which he knows will last him half a lifetime. _Burberry. Irish tweed. Was £600 Now £300_.

As usual, Severus Snape never gets what he wants.

 

A few days later Severus is both a happier man - and a sadder one. Well, maybe not _sad_ as much as _cold_. London winter has suddenly decided to sneer and bite and show its uglier side. Severus feels as if he is living in a freezer, not that he has ever tried, but he is certain it feels that way. What makes him happy, or at least... optimistic, is the heavy snow that falls almost daily.

As he squints up at the greyish sky, he begins to shovel the snow off the pavement. An hour a day and £200 at the end of the month. Mrs Ainsley is generous. Severus huffs against the cold wind. All scents disappear in the snow, and the city does not only feel frozen, it smells that way too.

Severus puts down the shovel, admiring his work. Sprinkling liberal amounts of salt on the footpath, he considers whether he should visit the shop around the corner. Maybe, if Severus makes a down payment on the coat...

As usual, Severus Snape never gets what he wants. When he stands outside the shop, he realises that the "sale" sign has gone and the shop looks dark and empty.

'At least I have money for a decent woollen jumper,' he tells his slightly distorted reflection in the shop's window. 'You idiot,' he finally sneers at himself and wishes he had just hexed the shop-owner and taken what he wanted. It's a handicap to have taken up an honest lifestyle. The positive aspect is of course that Severus' savings now will be twice the amount they were before - when he gets the money from Mrs Ainsley. He doesn't want to use money on a cheaper coat. That is something he cannot afford. Only the best is good enough and he doubts he can find another Burberry like the one he wants. Poverty is like that. It might take years before Severus can afford something new again, and quality lasts longer. He cannot afford not to buy the best.

 

The days disappear in a flurry of snow and wind and freezing evenings. Blankets are cheap, and only at night Severus seems to feel warm, curled up under an array of Oxfam's best fleece and wool. The frozen hell that is London is so uninviting that no one in their right mind goes outside unless they have to. And it is during one of those brief "have-to" quests to Tesco's that Severus realises that the old shop sign has been replaced by another, a new one, looking exactly like the old, just with another name on it. _Percy's, Est. 1779_ it says. There is an "opening sale" note written in a neat hand in the window.

Severus forgets about groceries. Winter is dragging on, not letting go of London, and Severus could really use that Burberry coat. If it is still on sale, that is. He hesitates for a moment before he enters. The small shop is dimly lit, but everything is dim and dark these February days, with the snowy skies looming low over the rooftops. Yes, he needs that coat and he can't lose anything by asking.

A brass bell hanging on the door frame announces Severus' entry with a clear, metallic sound. A whiff of warm, deliciously warm, air meets him and he hurries to close the door behind him. The shop smells slightly of dusty fabric and premium leather. The narrow room is so small it feels almost like a lined cave. The coat is back on the spot where it hung before. Severus takes a few steps, enough to let him reach out and touch the expensive, heavy tweed.

'Yes, quality does show, doesn't it?' someone asks, and Severus turns around as the shopkeeper opens a door and steps into the showroom, maybe from a store room somewhere in the back, Severus doesn't know.

'Indeed,' Severus says calmly and looks closer at the man, a slender redhead with slim hips. He wears heavy black-rimmed glasses and a very nice golden and brown tweed west that suits his lean body perfectly. He looks handsome. And familiar. Oh...

'Oh.' The shopkeeper echoes Severus' shock with one of his own. 'Oh.' Then, 'Profes-'

'Percy Weasley.' Severus cuts Weasley off, not wanting to hear the title that was once his. 'Don't.' Severus feels like a cornered mouse. Except for the mouse part, of course. Severus was never a mouse. On the contrary. Severus half-way expects Percy to do what former students usually do under Severus' scrutinising glare: wither, fall apart and submit. Strangely enough, Percy does not.

'Mr Snape, then,' Percy Weasley tilts his head a bit, assessing Severus curiously.

'Will you please forget that I ever sat foot in this establishment,' Severus says, inwardly considering where he can possibly get another flat as cheap as the one he has. But he cannot stay here if the Weasley clan is about to invade the premises that Severus has regarded as his.

'Not very likely,' Weasley says, almost coldly. The boy seems to have grown into an adult. 'Why don't you just Obliviate me, _sir_? '

Severus' eyes reflect the coldness outside. 'Thank you so much for your trust, Weasley. I don't go around hexing people, just because I can.' He doesn't want to let Weasley know he is not carrying his wand.

'I won't mention it to anyone, if that is what you want to hear,' Weasley looks immensely sad for a brief moment. 'Not that I speak to people who would know who you are.'

Severus raises an eyebrow. 'You don't?' He is not sure what, exactly Weasley means.

'I haven't seen my family for more than ten years, Mr Snape.' Percy sighs. 'Or anyone else from the wizarding world, for that matter. I thought you knew that? _Percy, the black Weasley sheep_. After the scandal with Blaise Zabini?'

Inside Severus mind, little pieces of a hitherto unknown puzzle connect and create a foggy, however enlightening, picture. 'Ah,' Severus says and the eyebrow moves up another floor. 'Homosexuality does not sit well with the perfect Weasley family?' Severus' expression softens slightly. He has experienced how things play out when Molly Weasley is discontent. 'And no, I didn't know. I haven't spoken to anyone from... our... world' Severus snorts. 'No, it is not _our_ ,' he sneers. 'I haven't seen another wizard for more than ten years, and I had preferred keeping it that way.'

Weasley looks pained. 'Yes.'

Severus doesn't know what Percy replies to. He just stands there, without saying anything.

'It was that... the scandal. Maybe also the fact that I wasn't the one who got killed in the war.' Weasley hesitates before he looks up. His eyes are doe-like and insecure. 'Does it bother you? That I'm...'

Severus is just about to snap that he doesn't bloody care who Percy Weasley takes to bed, but the look in Weasley's eyes stops him. 'No, Mr Weasley. It does not. At all.' How could it? Severus had had those urges as long as he remembers. Not for Percy, obviously, but for... other wizards. Yet another secret he took with him when he left the wizarding world.

'Oh,' Weasley says again and looks as if he is collecting himself. 'Then...'

'Then...' Severus mirrors Percy Weasley's slightly confused look. 'Mr Weasley...'

'Percy.' Percy smiles and it changes his serious expression. He is still young, at least compared to Severus, and it shows. Despite his lack of love for the Weasley family, Severus appreciates what he sees.

'Percy, then.' A tick at the corner of Severus' lips has to make up for a smile.

Percy seems to revert to some kind of professionalism. 'The coat... did you want to try it on?'

Severus can feel Percy's gaze on the frail, black coat he is wearing. It is only one step from being a rag. Perhaps that more than anything tells Percy of Severus' current situation.

'It's on sale,' Percy adds. '300£. Not a bargain, but-'

Severus takes a deep breath before he leaves the shattered pieces of his torn pride. It is bad enough that he has to ask. That he has to ask Percy Weasley makes it even worse. But Severus can't afford yet another winter in his old coat. Pride does not keep you warm. 'Maybe a down payment?' he suggests, trying not to sound as angry and displeased as he feels. 'I can't... not until the end of the month.'

'Please, try it on.' Percy hesitates. 'My apologies for saying so, Mr Snape, but this unexpected winter demands heavier coats.'

'I know,' Severus snaps, reining in his annoyance. 'Believe me, Percy, I know.' The only comfort in this is that Percy knows about being poor. It isn't as if the Weasley family is wealthy; Severus is able to recall several instances of hand-me-down clothes which were in a state that Severus' coat has not yet reached. It shouldn't, but it feels somewhat comforting.

Percy pulls the Burberry of its hanger. 'This will keep you warm for years,' Percy says, pinpointing the exact reason for Severus' intended purchase. 'Doesn't get any better.'

Severus tends to agree. Even before he has buttoned the coat around his thin body, it feels like a second and very thick skin. The luxurious wool simply falls into place, so warm it is almost too much, wearing the coat inside the shop. Severus puts his hands into the pockets. They are deep and lined with something soft and plush. He sighs contently. It feels precisely as he had imagined.

'It's perfect.' Percy manages to let his gaze slide over Severus' slim shape, appreciating how the coat's lines emphasise height and what little shoulders Severus has. 'You look very nice, Mr Snape.'

Severus has no illusions about his looks. 'Are you sure you are fully conscious, Percy?' he asks and laughs, for the first time for almost as far as he can remember.

'Definitely.' Percy smiles and straightens out an invisible crease at the collar. Severus holds back a gasp as warm fingers ghost over his skin, just beneath his ear. 'You have the right build for a coat like this.'

Severus cannot stop himself from feeling flattered. 'Thank you,' he replies, his voice soft.

'Not at all,' Percy smiles, and his fingers linger a moment before he removes his hand.

It doesn't take Severus long to decide that he needs the Burberry. Luckily Percy is understanding when it comes to the payment.

'You just bring what you have now, Mr Snape. You can pay the rest in March, if that suits you?'

Severus does think it suits him. He really doesn't have a choice, and it is nice of Percy to pretend that he has.

He decides to, quite against his usual misanthropic demeanour, reward Percy for his kindness. 'Severus, please. I suppose you are an adult wizard now. You are old enough to call me by my first name.'

'Some might say so,' Percy replies, and reaches for a dark blue scarf behind him. 'I try.' He hands Severus the scarf. 'And so do you - try this on. It'll go perfectly with your hair and the coat.'

The scarf feels fluffy and light and warm and bloody expensive. 'I can't aff-'

'I know.' Percy suddenly looks hopeful. 'It's a gift. Maybe you would consider... having dinner with me in return.'

'There is no such things as free lunch, clearly.' Severus is surprised. What is it Percy wants? Dinner? Has the boy gone mad? He hesitates, looking searchingly at Percy Weasley, trying not to think of the boy as his former student. What he sees is a grown-up young man with bright eyes and an honest smile. A gay man, brave enough to ask out his former teacher not knowing if said teacher is the least interested. Severus doesn't think he has let Percy - or anyone else for that matter - know about his preferences.

The silence between them drags out. 'Does it show?' Severus finally asks. 'Or do I have a sign plastered on my forehead that informs my surroundings of my preferences?'

'No,' Percy grins, having no trouble following Severus' idea. 'I just hoped you swung that way.' The smile grows wider. 'So you are? Interested in men?'

'No,' Severus says. 'Not particularly.'

'Oh,' Percy sighs. 'I'm sorry for being so pushy. I don't usually-'

'I am - against my general decision never again to have contact with any witches or wizards - willing to make an exception in your case, Percy Weasley.' Severus sends Percy a glare. 'Dinner. Nothing else. And only because you always were a bright and studious pupil.'

'No, no. Of course not!' Percy looks happy and the smile that faded lights up Percy's narrow face once more. Percy steps closer and wraps the loose end of the long scarf around Severus' neck. 'Thank you, Severus. I'll look forward to seeing you again.' Their eyes meet for an instant that seems to drag out, as if the blue eyes and the black are under a spell that neither Percy, nor Severus can repel. Percy's fingers are dangerously close to Severus' cheek and Severus has to stop himself from leaning into the touch. Finally he manages to withdraw from the strange connection between them. Severus is disturbed, seriously disturbed. Not only by the unexpected meeting, but also by the equally unexpected and strange feelings that suddenly wreck havoc in his quiet, content life.

'Thursday at six, _Elephant and Castle_. Nothing fancy. I can't afford that,' Severus barks, and leaves the shop without waiting for Percy's answer.

The freezing London winter feels a bit warmer now.

**\- 0 -**

" _Temperatures for the second time this winter in Yorkshire fell to -14C at Leeming in North Yorkshire on Thursday night. In Scotland -22C was recor_ -"

Severus turns the radio off. He is well aware of how cold it is, naked as he is, and numbers do not make it any warmer. He places the wet towel on the back of a chair. The electric heater in the corner does not do much in regards to keeping temperature up; the icy wind manages to sneak its way in, despite the new windows Mrs Ainsley had installed last year. Severus is shaking, the cold air prickling his damp skin as he pulls out underwear from a drawer, eyeing it critically. It has been a long time since any of Severus' underwear was presentable.

'No,' he tells himself, and closes the drawer. 'It doesn't matter.' He is having dinner with Percy Weasley. Dinner - not sex. He dresses quickly, putting on the faded blue boxers and dark grey socks. As he looks into the wardrobe he hesitates again, this time not refusing the thought that he might _like_ Percy to look at him and not feel entirely repulsed. In fact, it is increasingly harder for Severus to refuse the idea that he likes Percy Weasley.

'Dinner. Nothing but dinner,' he tells himself again, but the shirt and jumper he chooses are his best. The dark blue wool is slightly darker than the wonderful, soft scarf that Percy gave him and it brings out hitherto unrecognised blue streaks in Severus' hair.

Dinner. Nothing else, or something more. Time for such foolishness is long gone: Severus is not young, and Percy with his narrow hips and the beautiful blue eyes and the warm smile can probably get anyone he wants. Severus ignores that it was Weasley who asked him out, not the other way around. Again he asks himself why Percy would want... _this_.

 _This_ indicates Severus' thin body, his middle-aged, gaunt face, the yellowing teeth and the impossible hair, always either too lank or too greasy or, lately, too grey. Severus has no illusions left about what he has to offer, except from a clear, sharp mind and an arse that looks on the nice side of decent in a pair of jeans. No, the slightly flirting tone between Percy and himself... probably only due to Percy Weasley's surprise at meeting another wizard.

Severus quickly finishes dressing himself, puts on the coat which is the reason for his ill-managed anticipation, wraps Percy's scarf around his neck and walks down the stairs, outside into the freezing cold. Luckily the Elephant & Castle is just down Church Walk and round the corner at Holland Street. Wise choice, the pub, just in case polar bears have decided to invade London and one has to flee inside. Severus huffs at the cold. It is probably warmer near the Arctic Circle.

Pushing the door open, Severus hurries inside; the pub is warm and welcoming, and the smell of food from the kitchen is mouthwatering. He's not truly a regular, his financial situation would never allow it. He's been here times enough, though, to be rewarded with a nod from the landlord.

Percy has already arrived, to Severus' surprise (and pleasure). Percy stands, a smile on his face that reaches his eyes, filling them with a warmth that surpasses that of the pub.

'You have freckles,' Severus hears himself say, strangely caught up in the smile and the eyes and Percy's winter-pale skin, still decorated with a few summer freckles, dusted over the nose. Severus finds them... attractive. He quickly dismisses the thought. There are so many things he cannot afford, and the mere thought of having someone at his side is far too expensive. Severus has learned to embrace the thought that he is alone. Now, and probably for the rest of his life.

'Nice to see you, too, Severus,' Percy laughs, as if he can see through _everything_ , through Severus' heavily guarded mind. 'Nice to see you, too.' Percy's hand is lean, but soft and warm as they clasp hands.

It takes a second before Percy let go; a long, wonderful, electric, hopeful second during which Severus, too, is unable to let go of Percy's hand and of the shining eyes which express an undeniable pleasure at the sight of him. Severus is half-way convinced that Percy must be mental: perhaps the war did that to the young man?

'You really look good in that coat,' Percy says and ghosts a hand over the right sleeve. 'Premium quality always shows.'

Severus nods, insecure whether Percy means the Burberry, or something else - someone else - entirely. 'Thank you, Mr Weasley,' he manages and unbuttons the coat, then placing it on one of the pegs on the wall. Percy's own coat, a heavy dark-golden-brown tweed, slightly darker than the suit Percy is wearing, is already hanging there. As always, Percy Weasley look impeccable, but the expensive tailor-made clothes underline what Weasley familly's hand-me-downs never could: Percy is _gorgeous_ , even with his prim-and-proper attitude, and the precise symmetry of the tie's neat tie, the ironed and neatly folded handkerchief in the three-piece-suit's left pocket.

Severus sits down, and for a while they study the menu, which is remarkably varied for a pub.

'Curried lamb shank with apricots, I think, and _Old Empire_ pale ale,' Percy decides, raising a questioning eyebrow at Severus as if to ask his permission. They are not the cheapest items on the menu, neither are they the most expensive. Percy - ever the diplomat.

'I'll have the same,' Severus says and confirms Percy's choice that way. He can't afford it, but then again, he can't afford anything. It is acceptable, though, the expense. It buys him a few hours of company - company in which he doesn't have to pretend that he is other than he is. That is well worth half a month of cheap pasta and toast and little else. Despite his refusal to ever again take up contact with any witches or wizards, Severus finds that dinner with Percy is well worth the money.

They sit quietly, sipping each their pint. Severus is used to silence and doesn't find it uncomfortable. Percy seems to enjoy the silence as well. Severus will grant the young man that: he is tolerable company. Severus studies a newspaper clipping on the wall. It's from the sixties, framed in mahogany. Next to it is a picture of a horse-drawn carriage on its way down Kensington High Street. Below it, Percy seems to be meditating on the bubbly foam crowning the golden ale.

'So,' Severus finally says, breaking the silence. 'A gentlemen's outfitter? Isn't that a wee bit far from the Ministry?' Usually he isn't curious. Severus is a man who prefers to keep his own secrets, and after having used decades of his life of peeking into other wizards's cupboards, looking for skeletons, he finds that they do no longer hold any interest for him. Except, obviously, in connection with Mr Weasley.

Looking up from his glass, Percy smiles; a small, crooked, sad smile. 'Yes, and no. Of course formal men's wear is different, but it is all about rules and measures. If you ask my family I am certain they would tell you I do those well. Rules. And measures.' There is an odd sadness and disappointment in Percy's voice, as if the memory of his family is raw and painful. 'Not like the rest of them,' Percy sighs, confirming Severus' notion. 'Didn't take it too well when I disregarded all rules and...' Percy takes a deep drink of his beer. 'When the Prophet found out about Blaise... he's married, you know... Mum, she...'

'Shhh,' Severus whispers, and without thinking puts his hand comforting over Percy's, if only for a moment. 'Doesn't matter now, does it?' Severus can imagine precisely how Molly Weasley would react to the fact that her son is gay - in about the same way she disregarded that Lupin is a werewolf and not fit to marry anyone. _See how well that went,_ Severus thinks to himself. No wonder that Percy wanted to get away from the ties and the duties and the entire straitjacket of the conservative wizarding world. Probably as much as Severus had wanted it, and still did.

Severus moves his hand as Percy looks up. 'Yes, the shop.' Percy says, sending Severus a smile that seems to make the temperature in the entire pub rise by several degrees. 'I've always found it important to dress properly. I thought it would be a good idea to put that talent to use... After all I had to make a living without magic in it,' Percy explains.

Severus' hand is still close to Percy's. Warmth permeates his skin, as if the almost-connection between their fingers is creating a small fire right there, on the table. 'And the shop?' he asks, closing his hand around nothing before he pulls it back, only to hide it away under the table.

'It took a while to save up the money for it. Lucky I was able to get it. The old owner was a Squib, thus he was happy to sell to a wizard. He asked a very fair price.'

'A wizard who still uses his magic? You told him that you're a wizard?' Severus wants to know. 'It's risky.'

'I told him, yes. But no.' Percy shakes his head. 'I haven't used my wand for years,' he volunteers, cocking his head slightly as he looks searchingly at Severus. 'And you?' he asks in return. 'No magic for you, either, I take it, Professor?'

'None. Unless it is inevitable. I don't want the Ministry to be able to detect me.' Severus doesn't add that he doesn't like the feeling of a wand in his hand any longer. It has brought him too much pain as it is; further use of the thing is impossible. 'And I am not "Professor".'

Percy nods. 'To me you still are.' He smiles softly, the sadness gone. 'It might take a while before I get used to "Severus" - I would never have imagined-' Percy stops. 'I'm sorry. I think I might have counted on seeing you again.' Percy blushes; just a weak rose colour on the cheeks.

Severus sighs. This is the hard part. The part where he tells Weasley that they are better off if they part ways, if they decide never to see each other again. For their own safety, of course. They are both recognisable as they are, but together they will draw attention from Muggles and wizards alike: a tall, brooding, ugly man and a flashy, young redhead. 'It is unwise,' Severus begins, but is interrupted by the landlord bringing them their food.

Percy doesn't say anything, just grabs his knife and fork and begins to eat. This time the silence is stretching out, intolerably quiet and long and disturbing.

'The apricot really goes well with the meat,' Percy says at last. His voice sounds dead and dull.

'Yes,' Severus agrees, realising that his own reply echoes the sadness in Percy's. 'The cooking here is surprisingly good.'

The silence closes its icy hand around them both once more. Severus feels as if he is choking on his food. He coughs lightly, but the sensation doesn't disappear. 'Isn't it getting colder?' Severus tries; the temperature seems to drop with the approaching night.

'Met Office said snow again tonight,' Percy informs, his tone neutral. 'And -20. The weather really is awful.'

'Worst we've had in ages.' Severus closes his eyes. Is he chit-chatting? No, it can't be? He'd never sink so low as to have a conversation, just for the sake of uttering meaningless phrases, would he? He prevents further idiocy by taking yet another bite of the lamb, then another.

They finish their food, almost hurriedly, as if the parting cannot come soon enough. Deep down Severus knows it is, to him, at least, contrary: he likes Percy's company, and he likes Percy. He does not want this to end! But it is _unwise_. A risk. A danger. It always was. Friendships, love affairs... dangers. Ways to hurt and use and destroy. Severus will not allow anyone to have that kind of power over him again.

'Thanks for dinner,' Percy says, abruptly, putting his white paper napkin down on the table. 'It was delicious.' He stands before Severus is able to say anything. 'It was a pleasure seeing you again, Professor,' Percy says, his eyes lifeless. 'I wish you the best of luck in the future,' he adds, pulling his coat on. 'Goodbye.'

Percy is gone before Severus can react. He only sees the flash of a brown and dark golden coat and a shimmer of red hair as the pub's door closes behind Weasley.

'Wai-' Severus is out of his chair before his brains starts working, reining him in. In a second he grabs a few notes - more than adequate to cover the meal - throws them at the table and grabs his coat, one arm in the sleeve, the other opening the door out of which Percy just disappeared. Severus strides down Holland Street and down Church Walk, not knowing where Percy went. Yet another flash of dark fire and autumn shows Severus that he's taken the right direction.

'Percy! Wait! Percy!' Severus can feel _opportunity_ slip through his fingers and it doesn't sit well with him. All about dangers and risks and unwise actions is totally forgotten that moment. Suddenly he cannot stand the thought that he might never see Percy Weasley again. 'Wait,' he repeats, softer this time, as he catches up to his dinner companion. 'Wait,' he says once more, breathlessly.' He straightens up, looking Percy in the eye. 'Look, I'm... let me see you home,' he asks, relieved that Percy stopped. They are standing outside Percy's tiny shop, and a single spotlight in the window catches Percy's hair, making it look silken soft and warm.

'Not too far,' Percy says, reluctantly. There is this unpleasant hesitant tone in his voice. 'I live above the shop.'

Only then it occurs to Severus, proud as he is of his sharp mind, that there was no need to run. He will see Percy every day, passing by the damned shop. 'Oh,' Severus just says, unable to find the right words. No matter if he wants it or not, he'll be saddled with Weasley's presence. Unless of course he does the _wise_ thing and runs - to another part of London or England or the damned British Isles. Only, in the few moments from Percy disappeared from his sight until now, Severus has decided that he doesn't want to be wise any longer.

'It's about ten feet,' Percy says, nodding in the direction of a black-painted door, almost hidden inside an open alcove-like hallway next to the shop's narrow facade. Slowly his lips move; a tiny smile blossoms. 'But I'd be honoured. If you'd see me home.' His breath is white against the darkness, and Severus shudders, pulling the coat tighter around himself; the night is truly cold.

'Ah. I think I can manage,' Severus says and walks with Percy the few steps to his front door. The wind cannot reach them here, in this small, secluded corner of the world.

Percy fumbles with his key. 'It really is cold tonight,' he says as he opens the door, his back to Severus. 'And we didn't get any tea. If you'd like...' He turns around, and even in the winter's dark Severus can see hope shining in his eyes. 'If-'

'Yes,' Severus says and lets out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He raises a hand, almost touching Percy's cheek. 'Oh, yes.'

'Good,' Percy sighs, obviously relieved, and steps inside into an even smaller hallway, leaving only room for the stairs, an old chair and a rack, pulling Severus with him. They neatly put their coats on hangers; one dark grey tweed Burberry next to a golden-brown one.

 

When morning dawns and the January sun's attempt to break through the cloudy sky fails, leaving London frozen, the two coats are still hanging there, on the rack, close together like a pair of lovers.


End file.
